


Alone in Death

by ARose



Category: South Park
Genre: Character Study, Death, Introspection, Kenny needs someone to talk to, but no one would believe him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARose/pseuds/ARose
Summary: An Introspection of Kenny McCormick.





	Alone in Death

Shot. Burnt. Stabbed. Hung. Disemboweled. Run over. Electrocuted. Drowned. And so many more, even worse than the previous one. Even the most obscene and unimaginable, Kenny McCormick had died from. Over, and over, and over again. It was an endless cycle of pain and suffering that only he would ever experience. At least, he hoped that no one else had to experience it.

Throughout his entire life, from the moment of his birth, every time he died from something like dehydration or his parents leaving him somewhere without supervision, all that would happen was that he would come back to life inside of either his crib, or, when he grew older, his bed. At first, when he had been old enough to actually realise what was occurring he had thought that this kind of thing happened to everyone and as such he never asked. He was wrong. Soon enough he came about the knowledge that no one, in the entire world, died and came back to life like he did. And he also came to realise that, as well as no one dying like him, no one even _remembered_ him dying. That was why no one had ever been confused or scared after he suddenly came back to life after dying gruesomely.

It hadn’t been too bad. The deaths, at least. Up until he was 7 his deaths hadn’t been too many, nor had they been anything too horrifying. They had only been about once a month, or, if he was lucky, once every few months. Those deaths, compared to his life after 7, had been _tame_.

A while after his 7th birthday he had gotten trapped under a blade saw that was slowly making his way towards his body. Kenny couldn’t really remember _how_ he had gotten trapped under there, but he believed it had something to do with his friends wanting to look for something in an abandoned house a while out of town. But more than that, he remembered the terror he had felt as it lowered closer to him. He remembered that, for the first time in his cycle of life-and-death, Eric, Stan and Kyle had all been there and they had been trying to _help him._ They had been screaming. They had been splattered with his blood as the saw cut through this middle. He swore he had heard them crying when it had happened, but he would never be sure.

They didn’t remember it. But, as always, Kenny did. And also as always a scar, darker than the others he had had due to it blade going straight through him, had appeared on his body. That had been when he had begun to wear his orange parka. No one had asked why, mostly due to the fact that no one really cared in the first place.

After the incident with the saw, his deaths became much, _much_ more frequently. He came to watch out for anything that could kill him, even things that were completely harmless to anyone else. It came in handy, it allowed for him to at least prolong the inevitable before it killed him in one way or another. It also helped by not allowing him to die to the same thing multiple times. It still sucked immensely that he couldn’t actually _stop_ any of the various things from killing him.

The worst part was that nobody remembered. He had his own grave, sitting in a graveyard visited frequently, and still no one remembered or even noticed the oddity of the grave.

Kenny became something an 8 year old should never be. He became apathetic to dying, even if it did try and escape it where he could. He became apathetic, which no one should be, but no one was around to tell him that.

He was along. Even if he told someone, all that would happen is that they would laugh at him and ask where the story came from. He would know, considering he had told someone before and that had been there exact response.

Again and again, Death would come from him to bring him to hell or heaven– sometimes limbo. Again and again, he would return to a world where no one knew what had happened to him.

There was nothing he could do about it. He had tried all he could think of to get rid of it, even going so far to do it himself. But in the end he was still only an 8 year old boy with a curse that he couldn’t tell anyone about for they would never believe him. And no one ever, ever cared.

Aside from…

“Oh my god, they killed Kenny!”  
“You bastards!”

But maybe no one knowing was okay. It meant that he could remain with his friends. It meant that they wouldn’t be traumatised from all the various ways he had died or been killed. It meant that they wouldn’t laugh or judge him, it meant they would treat him normal and they wouldn’t leave him.

And maybe that was better. Maybe it was better because, despite being alone in death, and despite no one but him remembering all that had happened to him, he still wasn’t alone in _life_.


End file.
